Dear Mr. Omar,
We have had it up to here with your waterlogging shenanigans. It’s not just the fact that you douse the toilet seat; it isn’t solely the way you splash the mirror like an exorcist with holy water or that you flood the countertop and make puddles on the floor for some unknown, idiotic reason. It’s worse than that and you are now under fair warning…
If Edita comes to my office ONE MORE TIME to complain about this nonsense, there will literally be hell to pay. I have no qualms whatsoever about sneaking some bacon grease into your turkey taco at lunch and watching with glee as your strictly anti-pork mouth devours 4 of them, then questions why it tastes so good. Do NOT think I won’t – remember those delicious empanadas you ate at our Christmas luncheon? The Goya sofrito used in that recipe contains “ham flavor”, my little pancetta-avoiding friend! Though I begged forgiveness for your poor, unknowingly corrupted soul then, that train has definitely left Grand Central.
You were privately chided by (aka you had lunch with your buddy) our Director; Edita bitches loudly within earshot of you; I even made you this nice sign yet you continually ignore our pleas for safe and comfortably dessicated facilities. Forget that everyone else has adjusted their trajectory in hopeless defeat to head on over to the boys’ room (since you never use that one as it must be against your religion to exit a room and turn left); Edita just will not be bothered to walk the 5 extra steps. I mean really, why the hell should she when she can save those precious steps for her lunchtime power walk, or to come up to my office to complain?
Because of your little nasty habit, Edita stands in my office to once again bitch-and-moan about the downstairs bathroom. Your sopping wet mess almost caused her to fall down and snap her fragile little neck. As WE all know, she is most likely exaggerating for dramatic effect, but this is NOT THE POINT.
Can we once-and-for-all give this stupid shit a rest!? I mean, is your own bathroom at home housing beloved fragile orchids or some kind of sacred moss which requires moisture at all times and when you come here, our dry safe bathrooms make you pine for them? Are you OCDing in absentia?? What the ever-loving FUCK!??
Please help me put this issue in the “Dead File” before I sic Jar jar Bitch on you; OR – I break out the bacon bits.